Category: Sermons

By Deacon Virginia Jenkins-Whatley 

Luke 24:36b-48

When I was in college I worked in the local hospital as a nurses aide in the Oncology hospice care unit. I was terrified working there because you would have 5-10 terminal patients who pass away so quickly before you could get to know them. I was almost immune to final preparations for the deceased.

 I did become attached to a very lovely married couple, Irene and Frank McDougal. Frank was hospitalized for a few weeks before he requested hospice care at home.  On my nights off I would care for him and he would be so challenging. One night he told me I didn’t have to return because he was leaving. He said that I had been great. I could tell by the expression on his face he was serious. He gave me a bottle of Irish whiskey  and said don’t drink it all at once. After all these years  I still have that bottle.

After his passing I would visit with his wife. She was in and out of the hospital. A year had passed since Frank’s death. Irene and I talked about all the funny stories he would tell us.  She had been in the hospital for three weeks and I tried spending time with her as much as I could.

I was home studying for finals around 11 p.m one night. I was drifting off to sleep and I heard someone calling my name but I didn’t see anyone outside. I lived alone and no one was in my apartment but me.

I took a shower and went to bed. I was getting very drowsy and I heard a voice again and turned and saw Irene just as plain as day sitting in my lounge chair. I looked at the clock and it was 11:10 pm She said she missed seeing me tonight. She said she just wanted to thank me for being so very nice to her and Frank. She said I was always a comfort to her and that she wished me the best in everything I want to do with my life. I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, I wasn’t sure if I had dreamt about Irene or not.

I had one eye open and scanned the room. I was scared. Fear overcame me. I called her room at the hospital and no one answered. When I went to work that evening, I did not say anything to anyone. I went to Irene’s room and she was not there.

When we were given patient report they told me that she had passed away last night and was calling for me. They said that she passed at 11:10. I was terrified. I didn’t say a word. After my shift, I went home. I had every light on in the apartment. I asked my brother to meet me there so that he could take the lounge chair with him to his place.

In today’s reading, the disciples, also were startled and terrified. They looked as if they had seen a ghost. Then Jesus asks them “why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?” This is the first time Jesus had showed himself to all of the disciples since his resurrection. So perhaps the disciples had a right to be afraid. They had not experienced the resurrected Christ for themselves. I think it’s only natural for them to have been afraid. I think fear and being startled is a predicted reaction to seeing the deceased now raised. It may be easy for us to shake our heads in disbelief, but we are at an advantage. We know more about Jesus now than the disciples did at that time.

They experienced the loving, understanding Jesus. The Jesus who understood that despite telling them that he would be raised, that showing them his hands and feet is what it was going to take for them to believe. Jesus was willing to do whatever it was he needed to do so that the disciples would not be afraid.

Fear is such a powerful motivator in our current culture. It keeps us behind locked doors, much like the disciples. Fear keeps us from living fully into the disciples that God created us to be. Fear keeps us from accepting grace.  Fear keeps us from full faith.

I feel that, when we resist the actions that Christ calls us to because of fear then we aren’t worshipping God, we are worshipping fear. We are a people who declare that Alleluia! Christ is risen! (Christ is risen indeed!) And when we declare that, we are declaring that not even death can stop Christ. Christ has defeated death. Christ can defeat our fears.

Jesus sees what the disciples need and he meets them where they are. He offers them his hands and feet, and then, after eating, encourages them to keep going. There is nothing to fear. Jesus reminds us of his promises by using scripture. Jesus frees them from their fear and Jesus frees us from ours.

We cannot escape fear.  We can understand that Christ can triumph over fear. But that doesn’t mean that fear will no longer exist.  We are witnesses to the fact that Christ has triumphed over death. We are witnesses that cry out “Alleluia! Christ is risen.” But as long as fear lingers, even behind closed doors in my bedroom, even in the nooks and crannies in our minds, we are not completely secure. Only Christ can save us. Our fears certainly can’t do that.

Jesus came to issue the disciples, and us a call. He came to remind us that our call is to proclaim repentance and forgiveness of sins. But Christ shows us that hope is stronger than fear. Christ shows us that an empty tomb is stronger than a cross. Christ shows us that locked doors cannot keep him out.

Christ has called us to be a witness to his presence among us: in our words, in our deeds, and in our presence in the world. Our faith is stronger than our fear Faith moves us on, into the world, proclaiming Christ’s love and forgiveness to all people.  Alleluia! Christ is Risen! (Christ is risen indeed, alleluia!)

Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey,
Thursday, April 11, 2021, at 10:00 p.m.
By the Rev. Stephen C. Galleher

Have You Died and Gone to Heaven?

“With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all.” (Acts 4:32-35)

Alleluia! Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed!

Yes, the Lord is risen. Indeed, that is one wonderful half of our Easter celebration. That this individual, Jesus the Christ, lived a life so free of ego that he was liberated to live without reserve, with no holds barred. As a friend’s rewording of today’s collect goes, “Jesus’s life was so trusting and true that death could not hold him.” Christ showed in his resurrection appearances that God does not and will not abandon us. And he delivers his peace by showing that being in a resurrection environment is a place where peace reigns—a peace that passes understanding.

        But where does that leave us? Without some impact on my life here and now, it’s just a charming and dramatic history lesson from a long-ago time and place.

        I am sure that we all know that old saying, “I’ve died and gone to heaven!” I don’t know if there is a Korean equivalent for this; but it indicates, does it not, that our life is going so well that things just couldn’t feel better for us. We say it, do we not, when we are in a state of relative bliss? We just didn’t know we could feel this good and still be alive! But when things slip, when our lives meet challenges, then our wings are clipped and we usually stop saying it.

        But my question this morning is, “Have we, in fact, or have we not, in fact, died and gone to heaven?”

        For this question gets to the heart of our life, goes straight to the meaning of our Baptism, and challenges us to listen again to one of the final statements of Christ: “Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another.” (John 13:34-35)

        So, we ask in a more somber vein, “Have you died and gone to heaven?” Have you really died and are you now in heaven? Of course, many of you will object, “Of course not. I am not dead, nor have I gone to what’s next in store for me!” Ok. If you want to be that way! If you want to think that you live, then you die, and then you go someplace else. That’s a pretty literal picture; and if you feel comfortable in that rocket ship, enjoy the voyage. I fear that many of us cannot come along with you. Many young people reject their religious heritage because they find that view of their lives to sound far-fetched. They just can’t relate.

        But we Christians, whatever we think about what happens to us after we die, tell another story. And that is that our lives are presently transformed, shot through now with a new perspective, a new reality, the reality that we have died and been risen with Christ. To me, this means that our lives now are lived in eternity, in the bosom of Abraham, in the arms of the risen Christ, we are in the presence now of this God who never leaves our side, who is closer to us than our very breath. In fact, this God is the very breath of our lives.

        Paul, in one of his most ecstatic passages, says in poetic language what I am getting at. He writes, “Since you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is seated, at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on the earth. For you have died, and your life is hid with Christ in God.” (Colossians 31-4)

            I do not believe that this writing is as abstract or impractical as we might at first think. It is borne out in our life experiences. When we are in the presence of the death of a loved one, for instance. Do we not in some sense feel that we are still present with them, with their love? Our love for them and their love for us has not disappeared. We witness near and far unbelievable acts of service, bravery and sacrifice, like the thousands of health care professionals who show up for work during this time of COVID and do their duty and yet save the lives of those they are waiting on. In fact, all similar service workers, grocery store clerks, sanitation workers, bus drivers. Are we not in the presence of the holy? Are these not sacred people doing holy things?

        Paul says, “Since we have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above,” and a bit later, “Set your minds on things that are above.”

        Is that “setting-our-minds-on-things-that-are-above,” about love? After all, that is Christ’s final commandment, that we love one another.

The beauty, but also, the challenge of this commandment is to love absolutely everyone, with absolutely no exceptions.

        So, have we died and gone to heaven? Heaven is not just a place where we are loved unconditionally. It is also a place where we love unconditionally. Whoops. Thereby hangs the problem.

        Yes, how do I love others unconditionally? Can I say that I do this? I know that we will confess that we do not do this in anywhere near a perfect way.

        But, being in heaven, we need not despair. For heaven is where love is, we are, remember, in the bosom of Abraham. The risen Christ said that where we are, Christ will be also. His love infuses, embraces, encourages, uplifts us into God’s love.

        How broad is the heart of the ocean? If you think of the ocean as one big heart, where are its boundaries, where does it cease to be heart? There is no outside of the ocean. Similarly, there is no outside to God’s love since we are never outside it.

        The Resurrection tells us that we have died and are in heaven? Does that mean that our bliss should remain undiminished? Of course not. We are human beings and we deny the reality of pain, suffering, loss and grief at the peril of our mental health. But resurrection does tell us that nothing need diminish our sense of joy, as difficult as the circumstances may be. Being outside of the world but still in it, we are outside time in a sense also. We are free to do as we please. And all there is to do is what Christ commanded us to do, that is, to love.

        A friend said something very simple to me the other day, but I took it as a sign to preach on the theme of dying and going to heaven. He said, “I have nothing but time to be kind.”

        Paul said it, “Love never ends.” Love is like the width of the ocean.

Life begins with love, is maintained with love, and ends with love.

Resurrection is now. “Christ is risen, the Lord is risen indeed.” Christ is risen and we are risen indeed!

Amen.

Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey,
Thursday, April 4, 2021, at 10:00 p.m.
By the Rev. Stephen C. Galleher

Love Makes Us Permanent

Allelulia! Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed!

“But here on this mountain, the Lord of Hosts
    will throw a feast for all the people of the world,
A feast of the finest foods, a feast with vintage wines,
    a feast of seven courses, a feast lavish with gourmet desserts.
And here on this mountain, God will banish…
The shadow of doom darkening all nations.
    Yes, he’ll banish death forever.
And God will wipe the tears from every face.
    He’ll remove every sign of disgrace
From his people, wherever they are.
    Yes! God says so!” (Isaiah 25:6-8)

Yes, this Resurrection event, which we live again this morning, is another kind of feast, a continuation of sorts from Thursday, Jesus’s last meal with his disciples. It was a return to communion, “communion” meaning participation in something together. Communion is a love-in, a reunion of men and women in fellowship, of handshakes replacing fists, of hugs replacing blows, of warmth replacing a cold heart.

        There is an expression that I was taught as a child after finishing the main course, after the entre. My mother would say, “Keep your fork.” This meant to take my fork off the plate, set it aside and wait for the next course, the dessert. This is what we have done from Maundy Thursday until this morning! This is where we get to taste the divine end of the passion event, the sweet ending to a harrowing tale.

        Let us look at two examples of just what has gone on between Thursday evening and today, the day of Resurrection.

        It was January 6 of this year, when a gang of angry rioters stormed the nation’s Capitol, and pushed through the doors and broke windows and violently overcame the Capitol police who were protecting the entrances.

[Project photos of Hodges] Daniel Hodges was crushed and pinned with a policeman’s shield inside a doorway. Simply performing his duty to protect the chambers, he was pinned in that door jamb. Such is a picture of pain and suffering on behalf of others. A microcosm of all the pain and suffering all around us every day. Both from circumstances that the world dishes out and from what we dish out to one another in our fear and ignorance, our hatred and violence.

        [Project photos of Eugene Goodman] And then, again, from January 6, as the mob drew closer to the legislators, Capitol policeman Eugene Goodman called to the mobsters and drew them up the stairs, away from the Senators who were hiding in a safe room in the basement of the Capitol. He was given the Congressional Medal, our country’s highest civilian honor. I think of Jesus Christ as our scapegoat, taking on our dishonor, willing to die for the likes of us as we continue to dish out enmity and hatred towards our neighbors. This policeman was a man of love, doing his duty, yes, but risking his life in the process.

        This Jesus is not just the historical figure, but the eternal Christ, pointing the way into the suffering of the world and showing us a love that permeates yet transcends the surface of our lives. The love that was demonstrated by those assaulted policemen is the love of Christ, the same love.

        Similarly, the love that broke through all that suffering and death on Easter morning is the same love we see all around us when we open our hearts and eyes to that love here and now.

        So, what does it mean, what is it saying? What does the Resurrection mean to you? Is there any other question really worth asking, for if the Resurrection of Christ has no impact, no relevance to your life, then are we not wasting our time celebrating it?

        In my own experience, I find its impact in two ways, just from being still before this event. It is more than an historical occurrence. I see and feel it bursting forth in all of life’s circumstances. I see it played out by Officer Goodman leading the Capitol rioters up those stairs and away from the senators. This is what love looks like. And, yes, I see it and hear it in the agony of Officer Hodges as he screams in pain trapped in the Capitol door. This is what love looks like and what love sounds like. Love bursting out of every situation, however dire, even however deadly.

        Yes, you may think it odd, but I interpret resurrection from events such as those I have illustrated. But I also sense resurrection in my own life, not just in the awesome, sometimes ordinary things that result from my life as lived, but particularly in retrospect. When I reflect on the course of my life, there is only one thing that limns it, and that is love. Love.

        I ask that each of you reflect even casually on your life. There have been happy, joyous times, triumphant times; and there have been disappointing, sad, yes, even tragic times. But can you say that any of those times have been times devoid of love? Please be honest. It is perfectly fine if you do not see all the events of your life the way that I am suggesting.

        But what triggered my interpretation of my life by saying it has been all about love was a statement that a retired friend of mine said to me the other day. It was only a four-word sentence, but its power entered me deeply. He said: “Love…makes…us…permanent.”

        Love makes us permanent. Love does not come from nowhere and it does not leave once it is here. Don’t you feel this with all those family and friends who have passed, who loved you and whom you loved? They haven’t gone anywhere. This is resurrection.

        Love makes us permanent.

        William Penn, a famous Quaker and the founder of the colony of Pennsylvania, was also a religious thinker and writer. He wrote: “And this is the comfort of the resurrection, that the grave cannot hold us, and we live as soon as we die. For death is no more than a turning of us from time to eternity.”

        I love this sentiment. But eternity is not something after death. Aren’t we in eternity now? Isn’t our Baptism telling us that we have been buried and risen with Christ? We are already Christ’s own forever. So, speaking metaphorically, there is nowhere to go! There is no where to go to!

        I hope that we all on this Easter morn receive a renewed sense of the glory and power of our own resurrection with Christ. It’s as simple as a loving kiss for our partner, a gesture of reconciliation toward someone who has been off our radar, a beautiful thought wafted outward for a blessing from the warm air that greets it.

Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete….

When I was an infant at my mother’s breast, I gurgled and cooed like any infant. When I grew up, I left those infant ways for good.

We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! …

But for right now…we have three things to do to lead us [home]: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love. (Corinthians 13:8-1300

Amen

Amen.

Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey,
Sunday, March28, 2021, at 10:00 a.m.
By the Rev. Stephen C. Galleher

The Example of His Great Humility

“God took upon himself our humanity, suffering death, and exhibiting his great humility.” (Collect paraphrased, Palm Sunday)

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 2:5-11)

I know, I know. The Passion reading this morning, as vital and dramatic as it is, is exceedingly long. It’s a challenge just to maintain our attention. We are not used to be being read to at such great length, unless it’s an audiobook. I asked our dear friend Fr. Wade Renn if it was his custom to give a full-length sermon on Palm Sunday, and he said emphatically, “Yes!”

        You may be somewhat relieved to learn that I do not intend to preach a sermon this morning. But wait, I would like to read a marvelous excerpt from the 20^th century monk, writer, and mystic Thomas Merton. This brilliant preparation for our walk this week to Calvary and to the tomb of Christ’s resurrection is from Merton’s masterpiece New Seeds of Contemplation.

To say that I am made in the image of God is to say that love is the reason for my existence, for God is love.

Love is my true identity. Selflessness is my true self. Love is my true character. Love is my name.

If, therefore, I do anything or think anything or say anything or know anything that is not purely for the love of God, it cannot give me peace, or rest, or fulfillment, or joy

To find love I must enter into the sanctuary where it is hidden, which is the mystery of God. And to enter into His sanctity I must become holy as He is holy, perfect as He is perfect.

How can I even dare to entertain such a thought? Is it not madness? It is certainly madness if I think I know what the holiness and perfection of God really are in themselves and if I think that there is some way in which I can apply myself to imitating them. I must begin, then, by realizing that the holiness of God is something that is to me, and to all men, utterly mysterious, inscrutable, beyond the highest notion of any kind of perfection, beyond any relevant human statement whatever.

If I am to be “holy” I must therefore be something that I do not understand, something mysterious and hidden, something apparently self-contradictory; for God, in Christ, “emptied Himself.” He became a man, and dwelt among sinners. He was considered a sinner. He was put to death as a blasphemer, as one who at least implicitly denied God, as one who revolted against the holiness of God. Indeed, the great question in the trial and condemnation of Christ was precisely the denial of God and the denial of His holiness. So God Himself was put to death on the cross because He did not measure up to man’s conception of His Holiness . . . . He was not holy enough, He was not holy in the right way, He was not holy in the way they had been led to expect. Therefore, he was not God at all. And, indeed, He was abandoned and forsaken even by Himself. It was as if the Father had denied the Son, as if the Divine Power and mercy had utterly failed.

In dying on the Cross, Christ manifested the holiness of God in apparent contradiction with itself. But in reality this manifestation was the complete denial and rejection of all human ideas of holiness and perfection. The wisdom of God became folly to men, His power manifested itself as weakness, and His holiness was, in their eyes, unholy. But Scripture says that “what is great in the eyes of men is an abomination in the sight of God,” and again, “my thoughts are not your thoughts,” says God to men.

If, then, we want to seek some way of being holy, we must first of all renounce our own way and our own wisdom. We must “empty ourselves” as He did. We must “deny ourselves” and in some sense make ourselves “nothing” in order that we may live not so much in ourselves as in Him. We must live by a power and a light that seem not to be there. We must live by the strength of an apparent emptiness that is always truly empty and yet never fails to support us at every moment.

This is holiness.

None of this can be achieved by any effort of my own, by any striving of my own, by any competition with other men. It means leaving all the ways that men can follow or understand.

I who am without love cannot become love unless Love identifies me with Himself. But if He sends His own Love, Himself, to act and love in me and in all that I do, then I shall be transformed, I shall discover who I am and shall possess my true identity by losing myself in Him.

And that is what is called sanctity.

        Amen.

Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey,
Sunday, March28, 2021, at 10:00 a.m.
By the Rev. Stephen C. Galleher

The Example of His Great Humility

“God took upon himself our humanity, suffering death, and exhibiting his great humility.” (Collect paraphrased, Palm Sunday)

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 2:5-11)

I know, I know. The Passion reading this morning, as vital and dramatic as it is, is exceedingly long. It’s a challenge just to maintain our attention. We are not used to be being read to at such great length, unless it’s an audiobook. I asked our dear friend Fr. Wade Renn if it was his custom to give a full-length sermon on Palm Sunday, and he said emphatically, “Yes!”

        You may be somewhat relieved to learn that I do not intend to preach a sermon this morning. But wait, I would like to read a marvelous excerpt from the 20^th century monk, writer, and mystic Thomas Merton. This brilliant preparation for our walk this week to Calvary and to the tomb of Christ’s resurrection is from Merton’s masterpiece New Seeds of Contemplation.

To say that I am made in the image of God is to say that love is the reason for my existence, for God is love.

Love is my true identity. Selflessness is my true self. Love is my true character. Love is my name.

If, therefore, I do anything or think anything or say anything or know anything that is not purely for the love of God, it cannot give me peace, or rest, or fulfillment, or joy

To find love I must enter into the sanctuary where it is hidden, which is the mystery of God. And to enter into His sanctity I must become holy as He is holy, perfect as He is perfect.

How can I even dare to entertain such a thought? Is it not madness? It is certainly madness if I think I know what the holiness and perfection of God really are in themselves and if I think that there is some way in which I can apply myself to imitating them. I must begin, then, by realizing that the holiness of God is something that is to me, and to all men, utterly mysterious, inscrutable, beyond the highest notion of any kind of perfection, beyond any relevant human statement whatever.

If I am to be “holy” I must therefore be something that I do not understand, something mysterious and hidden, something apparently self-contradictory; for God, in Christ, “emptied Himself.” He became a man, and dwelt among sinners. He was considered a sinner. He was put to death as a blasphemer, as one who at least implicitly denied God, as one who revolted against the holiness of God. Indeed, the great question in the trial and condemnation of Christ was precisely the denial of God and the denial of His holiness. So God Himself was put to death on the cross because He did not measure up to man’s conception of His Holiness . . . . He was not holy enough, He was not holy in the right way, He was not holy in the way they had been led to expect. Therefore, he was not God at all. And, indeed, He was abandoned and forsaken even by Himself. It was as if the Father had denied the Son, as if the Divine Power and mercy had utterly failed.

In dying on the Cross, Christ manifested the holiness of God in apparent contradiction with itself. But in reality this manifestation was the complete denial and rejection of all human ideas of holiness and perfection. The wisdom of God became folly to men, His power manifested itself as weakness, and His holiness was, in their eyes, unholy. But Scripture says that “what is great in the eyes of men is an abomination in the sight of God,” and again, “my thoughts are not your thoughts,” says God to men.

If, then, we want to seek some way of being holy, we must first of all renounce our own way and our own wisdom. We must “empty ourselves” as He did. We must “deny ourselves” and in some sense make ourselves “nothing” in order that we may live not so much in ourselves as in Him. We must live by a power and a light that seem not to be there. We must live by the strength of an apparent emptiness that is always truly empty and yet never fails to support us at every moment.

This is holiness.

None of this can be achieved by any effort of my own, by any striving of my own, by any competition with other men. It means leaving all the ways that men can follow or understand.

I who am without love cannot become love unless Love identifies me with Himself. But if He sends His own Love, Himself, to act and love in me and in all that I do, then I shall be transformed, I shall discover who I am and shall possess my true identity by losing myself in Him.

And that is what is called sanctity.

        Amen.

March 21, 2021
Deacon Ginny Whatley
John 12:20-33

In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit

I had some difficulty with the story I just read from the Gospel of John. I find this reading from John to
be difficult to understand because of how Jesus responds to the information brought to him by his two
disciples, Andrew and Philip. To me at first it was perceived as being an irrelevant comment.

Two Greeks have come to the festival to worship. They approach Philip and say, “Sir, we wish to see
Jesus.”

Philip is apparently uncomfortable with their request so he approaches Andrew and together they go to
Jesus bearing the Greeks request for an audience.

Our text tells us Jesus responded, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified” and then goes
into a long dissertation about grains of wheat, death, and eternal life. We have to wonder: how does
this long speech by Jesus relate to the relative simple desire on the part of the Greeks to meet Jesus?

You could just imagine how Philip and Andrew are feeling. This odd response must have seemed
pointless. It didn’t appear to address the immediate need at all. You have to wonder: what was Jesus
talking about?

It is true our scripture doesn’t answer the question, “Was the request made by the Greeks to see Jesus
honored?” But the long and involved monologue about seeds and death and life and light would
indicate those who wanted to see Jesus would. Those that were listening to Jesus beyond the Jewish
faith would find a new belief and hope in Christ. We are all children of God made worthy by the sacrifice
of Christ on the cross for our transgressions. Yes, seeds must be buried in the soil to grow but seeds also
need water, sun and life giving nourishment to produce a healthy, wholesome crop.

If we look again at the text, it becomes obvious that in some way the Greeks’ desire to see Jesus was, for
Jesus, a sign, a signal that his public ministry on earth was finished. Jesus had done all that a life in
human form could do and now his hour had come.

Like a grain of wheat, he must be willing to die and be buried, in order to bring forth a multitude of
living, empowered followers who willingly give our lives to serve God and to spread God’s message of
love and justice among all people.

Like the Greeks who came to the festival and urgently, almost demandingly sought audience with Jesus
we come to church each week to celebrate our fellowship with each other and with God. We come
seeking audience wanting to see Jesus in this place.

Each time I am standing at the altar, I am filled with the sense that God is with me. More than any other
time in my life, I need the assurance I am not standing alone. I want and need to see Jesus, the
empowered and glorified Christ whom God lifted up and honored.

Through the power and presence of Christ, through the death and resurrection, foreshadowed in our
gospel message, I know we are not alone. God is with us, the same God that stood with Christ that
spoke a message of promised glory and honor; the same God who through Christ promised life eternal
to me and to you, to all who willingly serve God and others. We do see Jesus. Everywhere we go and in
whoever we meet … potentially we can see Jesus.

Jesus, for me, are the familiar faces that I see each Sunday on Zoom, You Tube or Facebook all of you I
see before me this morning. I miss seeing you looking back at me in the pews and when I smile and look
down at you, I see Jesus smiling back at me.

As we spend our lives, we gain them. As we lose our lives for one another, we gain life in Christ.
Where do you see Jesus?

Amen.

1

Sermon Preached at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey
Sunday, March 14, 2021, at 8:00 A.M. and 10:00 A.M.
By Stephen Galleher

From the Epistle of St. Paul to the Ephesians:
“It wasn’t so long ago that you were mired in that old stagnant life of sin. You let the world, which doesn’t know
the first thing about living, tell you how to live. You filled your lungs with polluted unbelief, and then exhaled
disobedience. We all did it, all of us doing what we felt like doing, when we felt like doing it, all of us in the same
boat. It’s a wonder God didn’t lose his temper and do away with the whole lot of us. Instead, immense in mercy
and with an incredible love, he embraced us. He took our sin-dead lives and made us alive in Christ. He did all this
on his own, with no help from us! Then he picked us up and set us down in highest heaven in company with Jesus,
our Messiah.”
(Ephesians 2:1-6)

ON ANGER

In this late winter and very early spring, recovering from the beginning of Daylight
Savings time, I suggest we try our hand at having a bit of “fun,” if fun is the right
word—by examining the Oscar winner of sin, perhaps the ugliest of human failings—that

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behavior that separates us from our God and from ourselves, operating against our
birthright, a birthright of freedom and happiness. You’re probably thinking I am talking
about PRIDE: from which all other sins flow. This pride, which our theology tells us,
goes back to the time of great innocence, the First Man and the First Woman and their
thinking that they could take one tiny bite of a forbidden fruit and blame it on the snake.
No. This morning, I want us to look into anger. Wrath, resentment, rage—call it by many
names, it’s all the same. Behind pride, behind almost all of the seven deadly sins, lies
anger—grrr: not getting what I want.
What is anger? Anger is a human emotion all right, with perceptible molecular
structure—it can turn our faces red, churn our stomachs, tighten our nerves, and race our
hearts. Anger ranges all the way from a small irritation, as when we are peeved that the

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wind is messing our hair, to socially organized rage, with hired murderers, called war,
which the human race still in its perversity accepts almost without question.
Anger can even seem normal and justifiable. It is universal throughout the animal
kingdom. Dogs bark and lions roar, not just to get a bone or to strut their stuff but to
indicate that they are not in the best of moods and may just have you for dinner. We, too,
raise our shackles when attacked—and sometimes it’s more than our pride at stake.
Anger is our biological defense mechanism. It gets the adrenaline flowing to ward off
danger and prevent injury or harm.
Anger, too, is a motivator against injustice. Shouldn’t we get angry at all the terrible
things people are doing to one another? Don’t we admire the fire in the belly of the
prophets and social reformers?

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Yes, perhaps so. But how much milk of magnesia do we need to alleviate the bile
and dyspepsia over all the things that can anger us? I have my doubts about so-called
justifiable anger. Aren’t we just looking for loopholes to bless our petty annoyances and
fretfulness? Let’s look for a moment longer at the many faces of this ugly phenomenon.
Anger is so entrenched in part because it can feel so good. Of the Seven Deadly
Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick our wounds, to smack our lips over
grievances long past, to roll over our tongue the words we form to tell somebody off, to
savor to the last toothsome morsel the pain we have received and the pain we plan to give
back—in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. We nurse our anger to keep us warm. It
makes us feel so right. But this feeling right exacts an awful price!

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So, anger confronts us with the question that confronts all forms of pride. Just how
happy and free do we want to be? Are we really happy nursing that resentment over
something that has long since passed? The person who offended you may be dead and
playing pinochle in heaven while you get bloated and ugly on anger and self-pity.
Buddha said it also: “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of
throwing it at someone else; you are the one getting burned.”
So, what is this anger, really, that harms us more ultimately than the one we are
angry at?
Anger is a form of impatience. Why doesn’t the deliveryman come when he said he
would? Why doesn’t my Amazon package come in two days as promised. I need it; I
want it. Darn!

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Impatience is a form of self-centered frustration. Have you ever hit an inanimate
object, say a wall, when you kept dropping the same thing or you couldn’t fix something
you had taken apart? Do you find it easier to curse aloud when there is no one else
present, because you don’t want anyone to see you acting like the child you still are? I
won’t ask for a show of hands on this one, I promise.
And sometimes we take out our frustration and impatience on ourselves. The
deepest form of this anger is depression—deep anger, unexpressed anger, something that
can simmer and remain buried for years.
Anger is born of fear or great, tear-wrenching pain. Anger is about tears and fears.
The next time you see an angry person, ask yourself: What is that person afraid of?

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Watch someone’s expression in traffic go from fear to anger—in such instances I’d say
that fear and anger are the identical emotion.
Or ask yourself a similar question of that angry person: When was that person hurt?
Look at the effect it is still having on him or her. Child abuse, whether physical or
psychological, leaves tears and scars too deep for words. Just as we see a mean dog bark
because it is former owner beat it, so, too, those hardened criminals serving hard
time—many of them are scared children who have to be incarcerated for their own and
our protection. Anger is about fears and tears.
Is anger justified? Sure, sometimes, if you want to call it that. Have you noticed
when you are angry you are so self-righteous—completely right, completely

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uncompromising. How many justifiably angry people sit in jail right now? That’s where
licensed justifiable anger can get us.
Ask yourself, what are you most afraid of today? Where is the fear that drives it? Or
better still: where is the hurt, the pain that is evoking all that rage?
Anger has no sense of humor. It’s all about me, me, me and mine, mine, mine. The
ego is bound to get bruised and battered and angry, because like the plant in “The Little
Shop of Horrors,” it can never be satisfied. The ego can never get satisfied, so naturally
it’s going to get angry. What do children do when they get what they want? They cry and
stomp their feet.
So, what about our anger? Anger is not love. Yes, we get mad at our loved ones. My
wife, now ex-wife, once said to me, “I wouldn’t nag you if you weren’t so naggable!”

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But it is very hard to think love and be loving when you are angry. To paraphrase Paul:
“Anger is impatient; anger is not kind; anger is self-centered, arrogant and rude. It insists
on its own way. It results in irritation and resentment. It rejoices in wrongdoing (“look
what you did!”). It does not bear all things. It does not live and let live.”
To those who carry a burden of anger, who fret in their tiny cells of anger, God says,
“Come out from your cells! Fear not, for I have overcome the world.” The answer to fear
is faith, faith that there is a God who holds us like the weeping children we are and says,
“It’ll be okay, son; it’ll be all right, girl!”
The big question, of course, is do we really want to get rid of our anger? No one can
do it for you! Live and let live. Stop being frustrated that people aren’t behaving the way
you want them to, since you can’t behave yourself as you want to half the time! Cut

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people a break. Step aside and let someone go ahead of you in line. Pull over and let the
angry driver behind you go around you!
The way out of our prison of anger is the grace of a God of love, a God in whom we
live and move and have our being. God is the only one who will not disappoint us. We
may question God, get mad at God, but God is such a co-dependent, he’ll never say
“enough”! Only, “come on back, honey!”
In conclusion, if we could just quit seeing the enemy in other people. We are our
own worst enemies. Come on, let’s love ourselves a little more. Wake up! Look at your
enemy as a lonely child just like you, full of fear, ready to burst out crying at any
moment. Looking at our brothers and sisters like this will take the sting out of your
resentments. It will help us begin to see one another as God sees us, as children of light,

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destined for love. I close with these beautiful words of the Christian mystic, Meister
Eckhart.
Apprehend God in all things,
For God is in all things.
Every single creature is full of God
And is a book about God.
Every creature is a word of God.
If I spend enough time with the tiniest creature—
Even a caterpillar—I would never have to prepare a sermon,
So full of God is every creature.
Amen.

Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey,
Sunday, March 7, 2021, at 8:00 and 10:00 a.m.
By the Rev. Stephen C. Galleher
The Ten Truths

“Keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our soul…” (Collect, Lent III)
“‘I am God, your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of a life of slavery.
No other gods, only me.” (Exodus 20:1-3)
I cannot tell you what a joy it is for me to be back among you wonderful people, under these
trying, even tragic circumstances and in such fearsome and confining days. I understand your
priest in charge, Fr. Shearer, is taking longer than he wishes to recover fully from this COVID-
19 virus, and I know that we all continue to hold him in prayer for a complete recovery. And I
know, too, that many of you are badly missing in-person worship. I get it; but there is an
intimacy to these Zoom squares we find ourselves in, and I hope we can take advantage of this
closer proximity.
Today’s Old Testament reading is the full display of the most familiar passages of
Scripture, namely, the Ten Commandments. I’m not happy with the word “commandments” to
describe these timeless sayings. How about “Ten Truths,” for that is more likely what they are,
pointing to road directions, happy tips on how to keep straight on the highway, to prevent us
from straying onto the shoulders and wrecking. Another metaphor is of the sailboat. The Ten
Commandments or Ten Truths are designed to adjust our sails. When they work well in guiding
us, it’s all smooth sailing!
I was discussing these truths with some fellow clergy earlier in the week, Fr. Wade Renn
being among them. Fr. Renn described these truths as evidence of God’s love for us. It is like a
love letter or a letter home from father giving us advice that can sustain us for a lifetime.
I would like to hazard a quick run through of these truths and see if we can’t soften them
and even make them more relevant to our present lives and circumstances. For after all, how
many of us actively acknowledge and adhere to these precepts? To be honest, I confess that these
truths do not play a vivid part in my everyday life. In truth, they play little to no part at all. This
doesn’t mean that they have had no indirect influence on me. Of course, they have. And I assume
they have had an influence on each of you as well.

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But we probably give them more value in the abstract than we do personally. And have
you heard about the Eleventh Commandment? “Thou shalt not COVID thy neighbor’s wife.”
You thought that was corny? Listen to this: Did you hear the story about the young
minister who had just started at the local Episcopal church? Like many younger clergy, he was
environmentally-minded, and so he rode a bicycle to worship. After a month of preaching, he
finds his bike gone, and he thinks a member of his congregation must have stolen it.
So, he goes and talks to an older preacher to ask for advice. The wise minister tells him,
“This Sunday I want you to preach a sermon on the 10 Commandments, and when you get to the
“Thou shall not steal” part, really hit it hard. The offending person will feel guilty and will repent
and bring your bike back to you.”
“That’s a great idea”, the young preacher says.
So, a week goes by and he runs into the older preacher who asks him if the sermon
worked.
“Yes and no”, says the young preacher. “I preached on the 10 Commandments just like
you said, but when I got to the part about ‘Thou shall not commit adultery,’ I remembered where
I left my bike.”
Truth #1: I am the Lord your God, and the only God. You see: there is no commandment
here, just a bold, wonderful statement. God is it. God is everything. There is no other, there is
nothing other. As the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins says, “The world is charged with the
grandeur of God.” Do we feel it? Have we experienced it? How often? One hopes that we live
with this sense of awe and grandeur! God’s reality and God’s presence is everything; in fact, it is
everything we need.
Truth #2: No other Gods, only me. Isn’t that something? Nothing else, no one else need
take priority in our lives over this transcendent and yet ever-present God, who is nearer to us
than our own heartbeats: unto whom all hearts are open. Keeping this God close to us is the glory
of living.
Truth #3: And we must take abuse the sacred name of God with our silly profanities. Be
careful to respect the holy name of God. In fact, the Jews do not speak the holy name (Yahweh:
see, I said it!): it is just that sacred. We honor God’s name by honoring all of life, all of creation.
Truth #4: Remember the Sabbath Day and keep it holy. Keep a time holy for God, set
aside a sabbath time, a time of rest. The Jewish Shabbat is from Friday’s sundown till

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Saturday’s. The day of rest from God’s work of creation. For the Christian, we focus on Sunday,
the symbolic day of Christ’s resurrection. Just like the diastole of the heartbeat, when the hearts
refills with blood after the emptying done during systole, all of us need time to rest and to be
with the silence in which our lives are enshrined.
Truth #5: Honor your father and mother. Even for those without a father or without a
mother, this truth points to the heritage that each of us lives in. The Chinese know how to honor
their ancestors. By focusing on the fact that each of us comes from a long lineage humbles us
and helps us recognize our part in a grand succession of families and friends. We must honor
them all. We must make our families a sacred place of respect and acknowledge our larger
family. It isn’t just a question of blood lines. It is a question of identification and compassion for
every living human being.
Truth #6: No murder. In fact, the deeper meaning is to prohibit killing of any sort.
Killing is a form of dishonoring of the name and creation of God. A friend of ours tells the story
of his mother who was dying of stage four lung cancer. As she struggled and was near death, he
sat beside her and thought, “I thought how I could have saved her suffering by just putting a
pillow over her head. It was only this sixth commandment, the proscription on killing, that
stopped me.” Yes. This is a vivid example, is it not, of referring to a commandment to guide us
in our living. The wider scope of this truth is to refrain from hating, bullying or injuring others.
Truth #7: No adultery. But surely this truth is more than this. Be a trustworthy partner in
everything: in friendships, in business, in normal human relationships. Be a “true blue.”
Truth #8: No stealing. We steal when we think we must have something to make us
happy or secure. Be careful in plundering the possessions of others, for in so doing we are
chipping away at our own integrity.
Truth #9: No lies about your neighbor. This is the meaning of that obscure phrase, “Do
not bear false witness against your neighbor.” All gossip and slander have behind it an
insecurity: we built ourselves up at someone else’s expense.
Truth #10: Do not covet. Not just your neighbor’s wife, but anything. Excessive desire
eats the soul and prevents us from being grateful for what we have. We become so fixated on
something out there that is not ours and in acquiring even more of what we do have, that we
forget who we are, where we are: little children under the stars. Stop hankering for things you
don’t have, and probably don’t even need.

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So that’s a rushed summary of this most famous list of truths or commandments.
But I ask you, Do you live by them? In one sense, of course you do. But I suggest that the
way of Jesus is much clearer and much simpler. This truth is found in the summary of the law:
we are to love the Lord our God with all our heart, mind and soul and we are to love our
neighbor as ourselves. The Prayer Book concludes: “On these two commandments hang all the
Law and the Prophets.” So, we need go no further and no deeper than this. Love of God, love of
self, love of neighbor. Are these not one love?
And if you want an even more condensed version of this summary, use the Golden Rule:
“Do to others as you would have people do to you.” This profound truth antedates Judaism and
Christianity and, in fact, is found in almost all of the world religions.
“O love, how deep, how broad, how high! It fills the heart with ecstasy.”
Faith, hope, love abide. And the greatest of these is love.
Amen.

By Rev. Robert Shearer

My beloved friends. When last we spoke on Ash Wednesday, I left you with two certainties on which to stand relative to death.

The first certainty on which to stand is the certainty that at death our bodies and all the functions that have an electro-chemical basis will dissolve into their original state. Or, as the Ash Wednesday liturgy states, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” This is the first certainty, solid and sure, a certainty that we can stand on.

My mind puts colors on such certainties, and this certainty is, for me, the color of dust, the color of earth.

The second certainty is hope. As the Burial Office declares, “In the sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life.”

So we need to talk about hope, and especially about what we call hope but in fact is the exact opposite.

Back in the 80s when I was working for the Bishop of Rhode Island, I was driving home after a late meeting in East Greenwich, a town about 45 minutes from home. It was a dark and rainy night; autumn leaves scattered on the road, making it slick and visibility was poor. Driving along at 45 or 50, these words floated across my mind—“I sure hope no one steps out in front of me. There’s no way I can stop.”

This is not hope. This is “wishful thinking.” It is a close cousin to resignation, a submission to the way things are.

On that dark and deserted road, hope returned and I slowed down. Where there is hope, there is action to allow that which is hoped for to flower. I think of hope as a sort of anchor, a golden anchor, that we throw into the future. The anchor has a tether they we keep taut. “I hope that my child will turn out!” “I hope that I’ll get a promotion in the next round.” “I hope to get over this sickness.”

These are not wishful thinking. Successful child, job advancement, getting well—these are anchors in the future to which we hold fast, upon which we stand. They are sure and certain.

So, when it comes to death, one certainty is ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The other certainty is hope—the hope of the resurrection to eternal life. Just as the certainty of hope is our anchor in this life, so our hope for life eternal is our anchor in the next. Amen. Sent from my

February 21, 2021

By Deacon Virgina Jenkins-Whatley sermon

Mark 1:9-15

In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit

Amen

Today’s gospel covers a lot of ground in a few verses. Generally speaking, we hear of Jesus’s baptism on the First Sunday after Epiphany and we hear the account of the temptation on the First Sunday of Lent. This means that several weeks have gone by between the two accounts and we don’t always see the connection between them.

Before Jesus’s baptism by John the Baptist, John was encouraging baptism to his followers so that they would repent and change their ways. He said that they needed to be cleansed because the Messiah is coming and he will wash you with more than water. The Messiah will baptize you with the holy spirit.

When Jesus appeared before John, John knew that Jesus had no need of repentance and said, Jesus, I should not baptize you, rather you should baptize me. Just as the cross and the resurrection was on our behalf so was Jesus’ baptism on our behalf. Jesus saw Johns’ baptism as a way of putting Himself completely under the law. Jesus was crucified as if he was a sinner, and he was also baptized as if He were a sinner. 2Corinthians, “For our sake He made Him to be sin who knew no sin so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God. It was not a baptism of repentance of His sins but a baptism of repentance for my sins and yours.

John immersed Jesus into the Jordan and as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” 

In baptism God says definitely, clearly and eternally, “You are my child. I am pleased to have you in my family. My favor, my grace is upon you.” We know that we may stray from time to time but we have a loving and forgiving God that will always welcome us back with open arms.

One moment the Holy Spirit was descending on Jesus and the next moment that same Holy Spirit was driving Jesus out into the desert in order to confront the devil. All of this was before He did any teaching or miracles and called any disciples.

The Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.  It is as if the moment the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus as a dove. Jesus was in perfect agreement with the Holy Spirit and readily journeyed into the desert.

The idea is that this is an intentional confrontation with the devil. We should think of Jesus as eager to do battle for us and the Holy Spirit encouraging Him into that battle. The leading of the Holy Spirit teaches us that this was not some random encounter between enemies. instead the temptation was part of the intentional plan of God as Jesus begins his public ministry.

There are not many details of the actual temptation other than it was 40 days long and Jesus was friendly with the wild animals.

Our Lord Jesus Christ is the Lamb of God who carries away the sin of the world. It is said that he carried the sin of the world into the desert even though he himself never sinned. He endured and triumphed over every temptation of the devil. If the devil could have gotten Jesus to sin just once, he would no longer be able to carry our sins. Jesus took our sins to the cross. He is our substitute. He was tempted just as we are tempted. He also experienced our pain, our sorrow, our frustrations. He experienced it all except that He never sinned.

After enduring the temptations of the devil in the desert, He began proclaiming the Gospel. Because Jesus endured temptation without sin, His Gospel proclamation is just as valid for us today as it was at the time of today’s reading from the Gospel.   “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.

Amen